


Seed

by BlueRoboKitty



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Blood and Violence, Evil Altea, Evil Alteans are goffick i guess, F/M, M/M, Mentions of Other Voltron Paladins, Mild Sexual Content, Multi, Unhealthy Relationships, established klance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-18
Updated: 2017-04-18
Packaged: 2018-10-20 11:01:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10661217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueRoboKitty/pseuds/BlueRoboKitty
Summary: Keith arrives at the evil Altean Empire on the night of the Beta Selunari celebration in order to rescue his kidnapped boyfriend. He doesn't expect the Empress to be so beautiful, or for this night to bring everything he is into question.





	Seed

**Author's Note:**

> I had a lot of fun with this one but it took me quite a while to write, so I'm glad it's finally out there in the wild. I might explore this AU a bit further because I absolutely love dark Empress Allura and how she got the way she is. And I just like writing dark stuff in general. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

**1**

 

He’s alone in the very place he should not be.  
  
The Red Paladin of Voltron is many things but invulnerable is far from one of them, even if the feel of Red’s near magical power purring at the tips of his fingers sometimes makes him think otherwise. He doesn’t bring Red this time, the one risk he can’t take. The fact that the Blue Lion is still in the possession of the Voltron Alliance is a miracle in of itself. Then again, that would not be the case if not for her Paladin’s sacrifice.

He sets his lip in a tight frown and punches in the code Pidge hacked for him in order to gain entry to the station.

Not a sacrifice. Everything will be back to normal after tonight. One way or another.  
  
The clear barrier that surrounds the open hangar makes it seem like there’s nothing between him and deep space. Even though he walks along the metallic floor just fine due to artificial gravity, there’s still a distinct hesitation when the visor of his helmet raises, the telepathic technology having difficulty deciphering his command. That’s the problem with these suits and neuro-technology in general. Convenient that they conform through the wearer’s own will, but only if you’re absolutely certain in your commands.  
  
His armor's red and black plating glow in the shimmering light from the base, a bluish color that would be calming if his stomach wasn’t currently twisting with agony. The blue reminds him why he came here and why he came here alone and why both of those things are a horrible idea.  
  
It probably won’t end with just another lecture from Shiro this time. He holds no illusions that he’s going to make it out of here without involving some kind of battle. “We’re stronger together,” just like Shiro often reminds them.  
  
But they’re not together. That’s the problem.  
  
And there’s no way he could just bring the others with him, just like how he couldn’t bring Red. That’s just laying down their enemy’s trap for them.  
  
It’s a reckless decision at best and a downright stupid one if he’s being brutally honest with himself, but the alternative is even worse. Doesn’t matter. He’ll get the Blue Paladin back, and everything will be back to normal. Well, as normal as it can be for a universe at war.

And this is the least risky way to go about it.

 

**2**

 

He likes to tell himself that he let them capture him.  
  
He still can’t deny that he’s not very good at being stealthy. That’s why he always had Blue with him. To guide him. To keep him in check.  
  
He’s not even past the hangar when the guards are all over him. For a supposedly diplomatic race, they are a bit on the rough side, shoving his face into the metal where he can actually hear the bridge of his very nose strain with the pressure of a hand pressing down against the back of his skull. His ears pick up the near-silent thrum of electric sparks from the tips of their staves pinning him there, not quite touching him but making it very dangerous to move even half an inch.  
  
“Disgusting Galra bastard,” one guard snarls and spits, actually spits, on him.  
  
He smirks back.  
  
“You kiss your mother with that mouth, Altean prick?”  
  
Jokes aren’t his thing. The Blue Paladin really had been rubbing off on him too much. No, he does. He still does.  
  
But the reaction is worth it. Sure, they start beating the shit out of him, but that’s just Altean pricks for you. Act like they are better than everyone else with their pretty words and diplomatic trickery, but at the long and short of it, they feel entitled to the rest of the universe and any planet that doesn’t surrender ends up crushed.  
  
Like Earth.  
  
The pretty blue planet which is now nothing more than pretty blue specks of cosmic dust drifting around a golden star.  
  
He might be half-Galra. But he’s still from Earth. Nothing compares to the pain of watching the oceans and mountains majesty and school yards and little food trucks selling refreshing milk soda and vast desert landscapes and tall trees and boxes of kittens and just all of it vanish so violently. So unfairly.  
  
That pain is enough to make him act. As always.  
  
The next thing he knows, his claws are digging into the Altean who spit on him, the smug bastard suddenly not so smug anymore as he struggles and screams and keeps struggling as Galra teeth sink deep into that vulnerable neck. He almost purrs from the heat of blood filling his mouth. He hangs on even as they try to pry him off their dying comrade, and he still tastes the Altean’s life flowing down his throat before a thunderclap goes off in his head and everything fades away.

 

**3**

  
  
It’s a dream.  
  
The first thing he sees is soft blue eyes and a worried expression softening to immense relief and a dark beige hand with long fingers pressing against the other side of the pod. His eyes are large and puffy around the edges, like he’s been crying.  
  
He doesn’t care if it’s a dream or not. He’s out of the pod before the cover dissolves all the way to release him.

“Whoa, whoa, Keith!” Lance cries, catching him in arms that are far stronger than they look.

He immediately sinks into the crook of that slender neck and breathes deep and feels Lance shiver against him.

Lance is here and feels warm and alive and _okay._

“Careful. Sleep chamber knees, remember?” Lance chastises him gently.

He stays limp in Lance’s arms for a moment, holding him as tight as his currently feeble strength, still struggling to recover from the cryostasis, will let him. He doesn’t care about anything anymore. Not the war, not Voltron, not whether this is a dream or not, Lance is here, right here and he’s holding him again. Fingers tightening over broad shoulders, he rises slightly on his toes to bring their mouths together in a kiss Lance eagerly returns.

The relief crashes and a thunderclap goes off in his head again, only this time he doesn’t pass out. He jerks away from Lance, feline ears as black as his hair pinning back against his head and a fanged snarl passing his lips and showing sharp teeth.

“Keith? Babe, what’s wrong?”

Lance tilts his head in that cute way he does whenever he’s confused about something, except there’s something _off_ about that, too. The smell, the touch, the way he stands, everything is wrong.

His purple-gray tail whips back and forth around his legs, tuft of black fur at the end puffing out like a bloomed dandelion. His eyes gleam yellow.  
  
His smell. Lance's smell is wrong. It's different. It's _wrong._  
  
There's still the usual scent like warm spice and fresh rain and human. The scent he used to breathe in with every embrace, every touch, every rendezvous between battle if time allowed.  
  
But there's another scent there, too, now. Very different. Very wrong. Sharp and sweet and sexual and just _**wrong.**_  
  
Lance gives him a little smile. "Aren't you happy to see me, Keith? After so long?"

Keith makes a sound his throat that’s intended to be a growl of warning, but it’s little more than a whine.

 

_Someone else has covered Lance's body with their scent._

 

His armor is different, too, the pristine white plating of Altean armor accented with different shades of blue, not the dark obsidian of the Galra. Lance doesn’t look like someone who has been captured and tormented by the enemy. His blue eyes are vivid and his brown skin glows like he’s been taking care of it as usual and there’s a bounce in his demeanor and a soft smile on his lips.

 

_It’s wrong._

 

“I… I am…” Keith stammers, unable to process what he’s seeing. He flinches when Lance slides an arm around him.

“Take your time, baby.” Soft lips brush over his cheek, and his ear flicks from the touch. “We’re finally together again. I’ve missed you so much.”  
  
The last remnants of the cyropod’s effects start to fade as Lance leads him down a long hall, clasping his hand tight. The castle is so bright, and the teal lighting hurts his eyes. Lance is full human, so of course, he’s not at all bothered by it. They say shades of blue are far more calming to humans, unlike the dark reds and purples of the Galra Empire.

They are also ignored by any Altean guards they pass. As if Lance has free run of the place, allowed to come and go as he pleases. "Don't worry about those guys, anymore," Lance says as if reading Keith's mind. "Everyone knows you're with me, so you won't be bothered. And those guards who attacked you have been severely disciplined."

He grins at Keith from over his shoulder in a way that makes Keith shiver. Unable to really process what he's hearing, Keith decides to focus on a more pressing concern.  
  
“Where are you taking me?”  
  
“There’s someone I really want you to meet,” Lance replies, turning his head back around. “She’s been takin’ such good care of me this whole time. I think you’ll really like her.”  
  
He stops, yanking on Lance’s arm, causing the former Blue Paladin to stop and look at him.  
  
“We need to go back,” Keith says determinedly, squeezing Lance’s hand.  
  
“To the Galra?” Lance smiles as if he's just been told a joke. “You serious?”  
  
“Lance, everyone is waiting for you! I… I’ve been waiting for you.”  
  
The smile remains on Lance’s face but there is a dark shadow in his eyes. “You waited?”  
  
“Of course!”  
  
“But you didn’t come after me right away.”  
  
Keith starts. Surely, Lance doesn’t mean it like that. But it doesn’t make it any less true.  
  
The smile remains as those blue eyes blaze with distress. “I’ve been here for eight Beta Selunari revolutions, Keith. Do you know what that translates to in Earth time? Three months. Three. Fucking. Months. And who’s been pilotin’ Blue this entire time because those reports on Voltron attacks sure haven’t stopped comin’ in.”  
  
He lets go of Lance’s hand and shifts his weight between his feet, ears drooping. “I know, I know, and I’m sorry. There wasn’t anything I could do sooner, but I tried. And I’m here now.”

Lance snorts.  
  
“I know it doesn’t really – “  
  
“Who is it?”  
  
“Huh?”  
  
“My replacement. Who is it?”  
  
Keith hesitates.  
  
“…Shiro.”  
  
Lance’s plastered smile falters for the briefest of ticks. Then it reforms, wider, faker. “Ah. Figured. Though that demotion’s gotta hurt. Zarkon’s been chompin’ to get in the Black Lion’s cockpit for a while now.”  
  
“It was the easiest solution at the time! Once you come back, everything will go back to normal, I promise!”  
  
Lance bursts out laughing. “Why?”  
  
Keith blinks, taking a step back.

 

_Who is this person?_

  
“Why?” Lance asks again. “Why should we go back? We have everything we could ever want right here. You’ll see.”  
  
“Lance… what did this place do to you?”  
  
“Only gave me what the Galra couldn’t.”

Standing in the middle of an Altean warship with little opportunity to escape isn't exactly the most appropriate time to have an argument with your boyfriend, but the implication in Lance's words freeze Keith's blood in his very veins only to melt in the hot fury that soon follows.

"I tried!" Keith yells, shaking, tail thrashing as his hands fist at his sides. "I... _I gave you everything, Lance!_ It may not have been enough for you, but it was ALL I had! I went crazy when you were captured! Every day, I couldn't stop imagining what horrible things the Alteans might’ve been doing to you! I know I wasn't the most attentive boyfriend! And if I could do things differently, I absolutely would have!"

He knows he never gave Lance the attention he wanted and deserved. Not because Keith didn't want to, far from it. But as a Galra captain and pilot of the Red Lion, there's just no time to be a decent boyfriend, too. He thought this was understood when he and Lance first got together. They were just trying to ease their mutual loneliness. They didn't mean to fall in love. But they did. Lance, especially. But their's was not meant to be a conventional romance. Or even take much priority.

"Oh, Keith."

Lance brushes his thumb along Keith's jaw. The young half-Galra tenses up but doesn't push him away.

"I'm not blamin' you, baby," Lance continues in a soft voice. "We're both just a little frustrated. C'mon, you've been in that pod for over two quintents. Everything will be better once we get you somethin' to eat, yeah?"

Keith is suspicious, but it's not enough to make him not feel guilty mistrusting his own boyfriend. Teammate. Companion. Someone who means to him far beyond any of those things. Shiro often expressed his concern about their relationship, worried that they were going to value each other far more than the rest of their team.

And, huh, looks like Shiro's right again. As always.

Keith doesn't care anymore.

He only cares about bringing Lance back where he belongs.

 

**4**

 

Keith doesn't eat much, and what little he does eat is because of Lance's constant nagging. As if Keith is the one who's been held by the Alteans for the past three months.

He's still not over just how healthy Lance looks. Practically glowing, even. As if he's been well taken care of this whole time. While Keith is relieved that Lance doesn't seem to have suffered, at least not physically, it still doesn't sit well with him. Like he's in good condition, but not for benevolent reasons.

However, Keith can't help but feel impressed when Lance takes him to his room. It's massive, much, much bigger than their little quarters back at the Voltron base. The bed alone must be a double king-size or something, covered with blue sheets made of the finest Altean silk and fluffy pillows, surrounded by a violet gossamer canopy. The walls and ceiling are speckled with minuscule teal lights like tiny stars. A fountain stands next to one wall, water flowing from the open mouths of whiskered loinu, a native Altean fish considered to be status symbols in the ponds of nobility. It is said they only appear in the light of Beta Selunari, Altea’s brightest star.

Lance hugs him from behind, nuzzling his neck. "I want nothing more than to pull you onto that bed with me and make up for lost time," he sighs, warmth breath making Keith tingle not unpleasantly. "But... we gotta get you dressed. Make you look presentable."

"For what?"

Lance is already rummaging through the closet. "I told you," he says as he sifts through clothes definitely not meant to be worn on the back of a common Galra soldier, "there's someone you gotta meet. And we can't keep her waitin' forever."

No sooner are the words out of Lance's mouth then there is a soft knock on his door. "Enter," Lance commands in this regal sounding voice Keith's never heard before, and five Altean servants come right on in. Without any kind of warning, ten pairs of hands start stripping Keith down.

"What the - _hey!_ HEY! The hell are you doing!?"

"Careful, this one's a little feisty," Lance warns, that shit-eating grin of his only growing wider.

"Yes, lord," is the reply and that shocks Keith enough to actually stand there and let them undress him. They just... they just called Lance "lord". That can't be right. Lance is definitely getting far better treatment than your average prisoner, but _lord?_

Once Keith's all the way down to skivvies, it's enough to snap him back to reality when one servant starts tugging at them, too. "Don't you dare," Keith growls, face flaring. The hands pause, and the one servant trying to take his underwear glances back at Lance.

"Keith, let 'em do their job," Lance gently chastises. "They can't bathe you while you're still in your unmentionables. _Ooooh,_ aren’t those the red ones I got ya from the Unilu mall? Yeeeah, I like those." 

Keith's face burns redder, as if that's even possible. "I-I can bathe myself!" he chokes out, and Lance bursts out laughing.

"Babe, babe, it's _fine._ Y'know, like you are. Just let them spoil you. When was the last time you were pampered like this? Never, right? Trust me, you'll like it a lot. Just relax and let it happen."

Relaxing and letting things happen isn’t really in Keith's nature, but he tries for his boyfriend's sake. Let it be known that there's not anything he wouldn't do for Lance, especially when those blue eyes fixate on him with the slightest pout on those lips. Renders Keith helpless every time. Damn it. 

It’s not... bad, he supposes. In fact, it actually is kind of nice. Even though Lance is no longer in the room, having went on ahead to meet with that person Keith's supposed to meet. But Keith quickly becomes used to, even enjoys, the hands bathing him, massaging him, dressing him in the Altean garments Lance picked out for him to wear. A black tunic with crimson trimming and form fitting pants that emphasize his rounder hips. Interesting. Altean fashion tends to prefer softer colors. Also, the clothes fit him perfectly, not something Lance, who’s taller and not as muscular, would wear.

Keith wonders if Lance had these tailored for him. Or maybe Lance made them himself. Lance always did enjoy sewing and crafting things, always needing his hands to stay busy when he's not in battle.

A gentle warmth comes over Keith. At least, this is proof Lance was thinking of him all this time.

 

**5**

 

The Altean throne room.

Once, Keith dreamed of coming in here as part of an invasion, to end the Altean threat forever. Now he walks down the teal carpet stretched over the massive floor like an honored guest. Funny how life works like that.

This is quite a gathering of people, hundreds of Alteans all dressed up fancy, wide flowing skirts and tight pants. Sparkling, too, much of their garments accented with shimmering stones and the natural luminescence of the marks on their bodies.

In ancient times, long before they evolved, Alteans were apex predators of their respective planet, and the marks were meant to confuse and frighten their prey. Seems not much of that mindset has changed, even with the most advanced technology in the universe that trumps both modern science and the most superstitious magic. They still want to consume everything they see.

The countless pairs of eyes of those Altean courtiers stare at him, a Galra in their midst. Well, only half Galra, but the feline ears are more than enough for them to figure out he's the enemy. He keeps his focus straight ahead, shoulders back, ears up. Like he's going to let them see any weaknesses.

"Welcome, Red Paladin of Voltron."

He's not sure what he expected from the Empress Allura of Altea.

But it's not this.

Galra grunts have often whispered that the Empress is actually a witch, and anyone who looks at her falls are enchanted and enslaved by her spells, that's why she conquered so much and is undefeatable. Keith never believed any of that crap because nobody has the power to completely control another sentient being's mind, not even their own Druids, much less billions of other people. Looking at her now, however, he can clearly see how such a rumor came to be.

Alteans are more beautiful than most other species, but the Empress is striking even for her kind. Her dark mahogany skin glows in the light, silver curls cascading down her shoulders, eyes such a bright blue he can feel them burning into him from here. She's literally breathtaking. The air actually catches in his lungs.

And Lance is there. He sits by her feet, resting his head on her knee. He doesn't seem to notice Keith, or care about anything else going on around him, eyes glazed as long fingers stroke his hair. Something in Keith's chest squeezes so painfully he almost stops in his tracks. Only pure discipline keeps his step from faltering.

He finally approaches the throne, and despite years of diplomatic training telling him he should bow in a polite greeting, he stands there with his arms crossed instead. He won't give any of these Altean any kind of acknowledgment. Other than how he's never cared for their kind and never will.

The Empress doesn't seem all that offended by his gesture. In fact, she looks amused, her dark lips curving ever so slightly.

"It's been many years since a Galra has stepped foot through our doors," she says in an accent that's lighter than most Alteans, probably due to years of interacting with different alien races. Her voice echoes powerfully in the collassal room from wall to wall and resonates in his heart. "Quite an occasion. To what do we owe the honor?"

"Give him back," Keith growls simply and firmly. He's not one for pleasantries. That's always been Hunk's department. 

She arches an eyebrow. She's gonna make him work for it.

"The man you hold prisoner, Lance Moreno-Reyes, is no longer a Paladin of Voltron and therefore a noncombatant. The Altea have no just cause keeping him in their custody. The remaining humans of Earth are citizens of the Galra Kingdom according to the Treaty of - "

"Protocol?" the Empress interrupts, and she laughs. Keith wants to be irritated at the sound, but it flows through him like music, a pleasant hum along his nerves. Once again, she seems more amused rather than insulted. "You come into my domain, make demands without any offer of negotiation, and then preach to me about protocol?"

The laughter echoes throughout the throne room, now joined by a few hundred others. Keith feels the frustration build. He never thought he would have an actual confrontation with the Empress herself. He has no idea where to go from here.

The smile dissolves from the Empress's lips, and all the laughter dies away. "We are already at war, Red Paladin. Protocol is little more than an empty words. The treaties were all broken long ago. Your own people didn't want them."

Rage makes Keith open his mouth, but she holds up her hand.

"But enough of this. We shall continue this discussion more privately. In the meantime - "

She claps her hands and music begins. The courtiers split off into groups, some dancing, some talking amongst themselves, some gathering by the feast sprawled along a massive table by a wall of windows taking in the surrounding galaxy. It's no longer appropriate to openly gawk at the Galra, but they will still glance his way when they think no one's looking.

"You are just in time, Red Paladin. This time of year, Beta Selunari is at its brightest. A time of feasting and merrymaking." Her eyes blaze along with her smile. "A time of fertility."

She says it in a way that makes Keith blush all over.

"Dance with me, Red Paladin." Lance leans out of the way as the Empress rises to her feet. "This is not a request."

Keith glances at Lance because there's no way Lance would just be okay with any of this, but his boyfriend gives him a lopsided grin and a wink, remaining faithfully by the throne like a pet who's just been told to stay in place.

Keith leads the Empress to the dance floor, feeling the warm softness of her hand on his elbow. "I take it you are familiar with the Korriban Waltz?" she asks as she faces him. He expected her to be taller, but they are actually eye level.

"I know it," Keith snaps as he takes one of her hands. She places his other hand on the crook of her waist and gives him what he swears to be an almost playful smile.

Dancing is another one of those diplomatic training things Shiro's made them practice time and time again, all kinds of dances from many different planets to make their Alliance more appealing and cultural friendly. Keith took to them quite well despite not being very comfortable at parties most of the time. The choreography is a lot like combat as far as he's concerned.

Around and around the two of them go, her ethereal white and cerulean skirts twirling over the floor as he leads her in elegant circles.

"You are an excellent dancer," the Empress compliments, staring at him through lowered lashes long and silvery. She's close enough that he can see her magenta pupils tucked in irises of bright blue, and the pink marks beneath her eyes light up. She seems younger up this close, with the faintest of pink freckles dusted across her cheeks. As if he's holding a young woman his age in his arms, not the ruler of an oppressive and destructive empire.

"This is dangerous," Keith says, more thinking out loud than actually trying to strike up a conversation.

"Isn't it?"

Now the Empress's gaze is definitely playful. "Dancing with the enemy. Everyone watching. It's thrilling."

Seriously, how old is she?

"I could kill you," Keith replies, and he most definitely means it. No opportunity can be more perfect than this. One carefully placed wound with his knife, and it will be all over. The war would be over.

"Well, that's a little rude."

She's not at all fazed by his claim.

"You are quite bold, you know that?"

His eyes narrow. "You don't believe me."

She laughs. Like he just told his girlfriend a cute joke that she genuinely found amusing. "Oh, I don't doubt for a second that you can kill me, Red Paladin. But you won't, therefore, I'm in no danger."

Her hand slides from his back to the nape of his neck, and he shivers as her slender finger plays with one of his black curls. Her tongue flicks over her lower lip, and he can't tear his eyes away. She shifts on her toes a bit, leaning close to him, body sliding over his, and he's hyper aware of how warm and soft she is... for someone so ruthless.

"You see if you kill me, then every guard in this palace will riddle you with quantum bullets. You wouldn't want Lance watching his precious boyfriend die horrifically right before his eyes, do you?"

Keith whips his head around to look at Lance. The former Blue Paladin is still sprawled over some pillows next to the throne, shamelessly flirting with the scantily-clad servants feeding him juicy Altean fruits.

"Not to mention it's not just you he's in love with anymore."

Keith stares at her.

"Poor Lance. Two people he adores killing each other." The Empress shakes her head, _tsk-tsking_ at the tragedy of the thought.

"Don't," Keith snaps. "Don't bring him into this. And he's not in love with you. That's not love. Maybe he's weirdly infatuated, Stockholm Syndrome or whatever, but it's not love."

She shrugs. "Does it matter?"

It feels as though the room is spinning faster, dozens of warm bodies brushing lightly against them as they twirl past.

"You did something to him. Fucked with his head."

"You make a lot of bold claims for someone at a clear disadvantage," she says matter-of-factly. "I think I like that, actually. You intrigue me, Red Paladin. Or should I call you 'Keith'? Lance calls for you sometimes. In his dreams. And other times when he just can't help himself."

Keith swallows. It's hot and difficult to breathe. "Empress..."

"And please call me Allura. This is the night of Beta Selunari. No need to be so formal."

Her scent is getting to him. It's the same scent that's all over Lance's body. Dark and sultry and seductively sweet.

The music ends and her lips are only a breath from his. He can't stop himself from wondering if her poison is as sweet as she offers.

"Don't eat the juniberry seeds," she whispers.

 

**6**

 

It's surreal.

This whole situation is just so surreal.

It's hard for Keith to really concentrate on anything.

Even the music has a slight frenzy to it. The laughter is loud and gets louder with every passing tick. And soon enough, it's much too loud, and there are too many people all clustered close together making it much too hot. This is more of Lance's scene. He can never seem to get enough of the heat, the sensation of touch coming from all sides. Keith's always felt a little guilty at not being so keen on parties, rarely ever accompanying Lance or actually enjoying himself if he does.

Keith takes another drink from the goblet filled with some lilac liquid. It smells horrible and tastes even worse... but it's also strangely relaxing. If he wants to rescue Lance from here, figure out how to get him out of Allura's spell, he needs to keep a clear head and not let this party, or Allura herself, get to him.

"You never were much of a drinker," Lance remarks with a lopsided grin, cheeks already flushed. "It's nice to see you kick back for once."

"Only for a little bit," Keith replies. "Also this stuff is really gross."

"You get used to it. Trust me. No one knows how to party like the Alteans."

"Lance, we really need to - "

"Dance together? I'd thought you'd never ask."

"Lance!"

Despite his boyfriend's protests, Lance tugs Keith back to the dance floor and into that swirl of hot bodies. "I watched you and Allura dance together, and I gotta say, that was probably the hottest thing I've ever seen." Lance's voice lowers as he pulls Keith close to him, fingers dancing just over the small of his back. "It kinda makes me wanna watch you two do other things together."

Keith nearly trips over Lance's feet, forgetting how to function for a tick there. Lance has never, not once, ever suggested bringing another person into their relationship, never entertained the idea. In fact, for all of his flirting, Lance is rather the jealous type. He always hated it whenever aliens got a little too flirty with Keith, always loudly proclaimed how the two of them were together with a voice dripping in displeasure. It's amusing in a ironic kind of way. At least, it used to be.

"Lance, are you really in love with the Empress?"

Lance glances away, face flushed and sheepish. "If I am, would you hate me?"

Keith's heart slams to a standstill. "N-no. I wouldn't ever hate you."

"But I still love you!" Lance insists. "Heh. I guess I really am greedy, aren't I? I want you both. Pretty bad of me, ain't it?"

"You can't keep us both." Keith actually feels a little bad having to point that out. It's not even about monogamy, really. He's surprised the idea of Lance loving another alongside him doesn't bother him all that much. But it’s not about that. Not at all.

They have to go back. They have to go back to Voltron.

"I know," Lance says with a deep sigh. Almost overly dramatic. Good to see he hasn't changed _too much_ in the past three months. "But if there was a way to let me have you both, would you let me?"

"Um... I mean, if our circumstances were different... yeah, I guess."

His ultimate goal has always ever been to give Lance all the happiness he can squeeze out of this cursed universe.

Lance gives him this look from beneath his lashes. The kind of look Keith's never seen on his face before. The kind of look that makes something shudder deep inside him.

 

Like he just sealed himself in some kind of fate.

 

Opened a door that should never be opened.

 

The world seems to fade away as their dance slows despite the frenzied crowd. Lance's body heat and his scent create a pleasant, almost ecstatic fog in Keith's brain.

"I saw how you were lookin' at her," Lance whispered close to Keith's ear.

Lance's body feels so good against his own, Keith can barely hear him. It'll always amaze him how perfectly they fit together.

He wonders how Allura would fit against him, too. How more perfect the three of them tangled together might be.

Keith pushes away from Lance as the last resistance his mind has to offer kicks in with one last willful strike. "We can't stay here!" he snaps at Lance's shocked face. "Lance! I don't know what this place has done to you, but you need to wake up! She's fucked with your head, Lance! She destroyed Earth, our home! Everything we loved! _We are the last remaining humans_ because of Empress Allura!"

He’s sure he’s screaming, but can barely hear himself, like crying out underwater. The dance, the music, the rush of physical pleasures, it all continues as if Keith hasn’t said a single word.

For the first time this entire fucked up evening, Lance isn't smiling. The expression on his face is serious, the sincere kind he's only ever worn when they were making love, the kind that took Keith's breath away when they first realized their feelings for each other.

It's sincere... and also

pitying.

"Oh, Keith," Lance says so, so softly. "Poor Keith. You still don't know anything, do you?"  
  
Keith feels his heart sink all the way to his feet, and his tail bounces uncomfortably against the floor, a crushing feeling of dread washing over him. "What? What don't I know?"

"I can tell by your tone that you suspected somethin’, at least," Lance replies. "Yeah, so did I. Of course, Zarkon wouldn't tell us anything."

"What is it, Lance?"

"Zarkon let our home be destroyed. So that the survivin' humans would join the Galra Kingdom."

 

**7**

 

Not possible.

Not possible not possible not possible

notpossiblenotpossiblenotpossiblenotpossiblenopossiblenonononononono

"Babe."

Lance's voice is so far away beneath the roar of thoughts screaming between his ears.

 

Zarkon let Earth be destroyed. To recruit the human race, he destroyed everything they have ever created. So many innocent lives. Snuffed out.

 

Why does it sound so goddamn _sensible?_

 

"It's... it's not true," Keith manages to squeeze from beneath the massive lump in his throat. "You're lying."

"Keith," Lance says and he looks genuinely hurt. "Babe, I would never lie to you."

"I know you wouldn't," Keith hisses, then growls, ears pinning back. "But she would. She would do anything to bring the Paladins to her side."

So many people. So many damn people whose faces he can barely remember. Gone forever once he finally forgets them completely.

"When we joined the Voltron Alliance and became Paladins," Lance explains, "we humans were picked specifically. Somethin' about our quintessence powers the Lions that no other race is capable of matching. Something about how our life spans are so short compared to everyone else's. Like how we're so spirited and passionate. That we managed to crawl out of the swamp and invent our own kind of space travel with no help from the outside unlike most other planets. It's funny, we're so rough on our own kind, but humans are actually pretty unique. No one else feels passion like we do. Or loss, either."

And in the next instant, Lance is walking away, already disappearing into the crowd.

"Lance, wait!"

Keith launches himself into the crowd, giving no thought to the heat of bodies clustered too tight together. He can't lose Lance. Lance is the only one who makes any goddamn sense right now.

He reaches out with his arms and shoves his way through as the music intensifies and the bodies whirl around and around. The laughter is so, so loud all around him. Merry, raucous, insatiable. There’s a scream from somewhere in that crowd as it tries to consume him. A fragrance like wine and metal perfumes the air.

And then he's free. Next to the throne. Allura sits there with Lance's head in her lap, tenderly stroking his hair again. Keith swallows hard. They are both giving him such intense gazes.

"Please let him go." Keith can't believe it's come to this. But right now, he just wants everything to stop. Everything to go back the way it was. _"Please."_

"I don't want to go," Lance replies firmly. "I'm tired, Keith. I'm so tired of being someone's pawn."

"And what do you think this is!?" Keith points at the sparkling blue collar around Lance's neck. "You're just a pet for her amusement!"

 

Neither Lance nor Allura flinch at Keith's words.

 

"At least a pet is beloved," Lance replies with a shrug.

 

His dismissive tone shatters Keith's heart completely, and he slumps to his knees. "You're my beloved," he whispers. "I love you."

 

_"It's not enough."_

 

Lance isn't going to go back with him. So infuriatingly stubborn sometimes. Keith can always just throw Lance over his shoulder and fight his way out if it came down to it.

But would it be worth it?

"Babe."

Lance kneels at Keith's side.

"Stay with us, babe. We can finally be happy. Isn't that what we really want? To be happy and free to love each other? No more sneakin’ around and only havin' quickies and hidin’ our feelings from the others so they won't think we're jeopardizin’ the team. No more Haggar bitchin' at us how our bonds have to be equal and no matter what we do is never good enough. No more bein' some douchebag's pawn."

"Altea destroyed Earth, Lance."

Zarkon isn't one of Keith's favorite people in the universe and never has been, that's for damn sure. Even so, _he's_ not the one who pulled the trigger on Earth's demise.

Lance sighs and says with decisively finality, "I'm givin’ them to him."

"Lance, are you sure?" Allura speaks up. "If you give them to him, he won't be the same. Sometimes, the truth can be far too much, too painful to bear."

"And that's why he's got us."

Lance holds out his hand, three little purple beads in his palm.

"What are those?" Keith asks.

"They'll make you see the truth of everything. But it'll cost you."

"Cost me?"

"You can still go back. To the Galra. Be the hero you always wanted to be, save the universe from the Big Bad, get with the cute girl. Or guy or whoever, since I know you don't really have a preference."

Lance is shaking. Fat drops of tears slide down his cheeks one after the other.

"Lance," Allura says and there's a slight warning in her tone.

"I... _I really want you to stay,"_ and Lance chokes out a sob. "I didn't stop thinking about you all this time. Not a single day went by that I didn't wish you were with me. With us. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I'm greedy and selfish _and I don't want you to go."_

 _"Lance."_ Allura is beside them now, tenderly touching Lance's shoulder. "Lance," she says softly. "He has to make this decision himself."

 

Is the truth really that bad? What can three little seeds do to him that the rest of this night hasn't already?

 

Keith can't seem to take his eyes off them. "What are they?"

"Juniberry seeds," Allura explains.

"Aren't those the things you told me not to eat?"

"They... it's hard to explain. They show you things. Make you feel things. And with another, you can feel each other's emotions, even see into thoughts and memories. It's the ultimate bond, no walls or barriers, everything laid bare. No greater bond exists. No greater pleasure, for that matter."

"It's easy to get addicted," Lance adds, wiping the tears from his face with his other hand. "So they can be pretty dangerous. Allura's told me some pretty gruesome horror stories. People gettin’ so addicted they can't tell what's real anymore. Can't even tell each other apart anymore because their memories have merged so much."

"And why are you giving these to me?"

"Because it's the only way you'll believe us." Lance tenderly brushes Keith's cheek with his thumb. "I didn't believe her at first, either. But then I ate these seeds, and I could see into her thoughts and memories. Feel her feelings. But I'll let you experience that for yourself if you want."

“But if you do this, you won’t be able to go back to Voltron,” Allura points out.

“Trust me, babe, you won’t want to, anyway.”

_“Lance.”_

“Sorry.”

It’s a tempting offer, actually. What does Keith have back at the Voltron Alliance, anyway? Other than, well, his other friends. Hunk and Pidge probably miss him. Shiro’s most likely overwhelmed with worry, Keith did kind of take off without telling anyone where he was going or taking the Red Lion with him. Red. Who would pilot Red? That Lotor dick? Zarkon’s son has been eyeing the Lion for a while now, trying not so subtly to push Keith out of the commission.

He shocks himself thinking Lotor can have the damn thing if he wants it so bad.

No, that’s not right. He _loves_ Red. Bonded with Red. So many battles together, battles he wouldn’t have made it out alive without her.

But he can barely conjure those feelings anymore. Not with Lance so close to him, those ocean blue eyes begging him to change everything. After three months. Three agonizing months.

So many battles. So many without Lance by his side.

 

Aren’t you tired?

 

Aren’t you just fuckin’ tired of it all?

 

He opens his mouth, not sure if he’s trying to speak but words leave him at the soft touch of Lance’s fingers against his lips and the hard little seed pushed onto his tongue.

 

**8**

 

He just

  
  
_Feels._

 

Fingers ghosting over his skin. Teeth nipping at his throat. A warm tongue sliding along his own. Two bodies pressed tight against him.

 

Hears her gasp when he sinks into velvet softness. Hears him chuckle deeply when a finger reaches into his own entrance. A blissful sigh of his own as he lets the two of them have their way with him.

 

Never before has he known such ecstasy. It almost hurts. Dirty words that he’s almost too blissed-out to understand whisper all around him.

 

Sweet. Safe. Warm. Loved.

 

It can be like this forever. It really, really can.

 

He comes like his very soul has ascended, and feels them both shudder along with him. Maybe he has ascended. Or maybe this is just what being freed from a universe-sized shackle of responsibility feels like.

 

**9**

 

It’s not always good because that’s just how it fucking is, isn’t it?

Sometimes

 

_Sometimes_

 

Other things pick at his mind.

Memories she shared with him. Memories he can feel as vividly as if they actually belong to him.

When you have all the magic of the universe, you breathe alongside the cosmos. Tied to worlds. So many worlds.

And one world in particular. Blue like his eyes.

Sick. Dying. Infected.

 

Sometimes, when something becomes so sick, so hopeless, death is the only answer. It’s like sawing off a limb. Pulling out the blade from a festered wound.

 

He screams. He screams and digs into his own body in attempt to dig out the infestation.

They both are at his side and she holds him close and whispers that he doesn’t ever have to feel this way ever again and slides another seed into his mouth.

 

 

 

 


End file.
